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It's All Relevant

This Blog Is About This & That..

Dominants? (So Called)
Posted:Dec 16, 2020 4:35 am
Last Updated:Nov 5, 2022 1:52 am
10175 Views
Please Don’t:

1. Call a submissive who isn’t yours, a good girl or boy or pet or whatever. DON’T. Even if you think we are a good girl or boy or pet or whatever. It’s not a compliment or a butterflies/warm fuzzy feeling for us to get that from someone who is NOT OUR DOMINANT. It’s not okay to use those words with anybody in casual conversation. It’s creepy. It’s not the words we’re into. It’s the person we’ve CHOSEN saying them to us. Getting these very personal words from a person who isn’t our dominant has the opposite effect than what they’d have if our dominant said them. It makes us feel wrong and uncomfortable. I would equate it to hear ‘I love you’ in casual conversation from someone I’ve barely spoken to before. Maybe it’s well-intentioned? But it’s still fucking creepy. Don’t do it. I’m sure there are other ways of telling that person the same thing without being creepy. “I admire your relationship/dynamic…I’m impressed by your dedication/service/whatever.”

2. Give unsolicited advice or instruction or direction to a submissive who isn’t yours,. Period. If I asked for advice or instruction or direction? Fine. That’s different. *That’s consent.*

3. Get all asshole-y and tell a submissive they ‘aren’t a real submissive’ or call them some other derogatory names or some shit for not taking numbers 1 or 2 from you with cheerful glee. Submissives don’t owe you shit other than basic human decency (which they owe to all humans…and so do YOU, by the way) for being dominant. And if YOU step on their relationship and agency, you’ve disrespected THEM first. They don’t even owe you a respectful explanation.

I don’t like getting all preachy and stuff here, particularly not preachy aimed right at dominants, but like…good grief. This crap happens a lot, and for people who claim that consent is sacrosanct, there are a lot of ‘dominants’ around here who think they can treat any submissive…even one who is clearly (usually happily) someone else’s submissive…however they want.

Hauling this back out to add any form of being overly familiar with a person you just met is fucking creepy. It doesn’t have to be D/s related, and it’s not only dominants who do it.

Don’t act like someone is your best friend the first time you talk to them.
Don’t ask them invasive questions. ( What do you have on, can you send me a nude pic, etc...)
Don’t call them pet names. (Baby, honey, beautiful, cutie, champ, tiger, WHATEVER…)

The people here are real people, with real feelings and lives that don’t include you (yet). If you want to be included, you have to show some respect and mindfulness in meeting and getting to know them as real people. Have respect for their feelings and comfort level and the relationships with other humans they’ve already established. If you don’t? You’re a jerk.

~yes-i-could-be-the-walrus
13 Comments
Remnants
Posted:Dec 15, 2020 5:04 am
Last Updated:Mar 16, 2024 6:06 am
10809 Views
Looking around the large and opulently appointed hotel room my Muse and I occupy one can not help but be stunned by the detritus left behind; remnants of an afternoon of Dominance, submission, bondage, lust, and lovemaking. Like Hansel and Gretel, our day’s journey leaves a trail of bread crumbs each of which tells a piece of a story that together ostensibly makes up the sum of our experience.

All around the room are stepping-stones of removed clothing; hers neatly folded as instructed, mine discarded in haste. There is the half-open drawer where a collar had been retrieved; a tube of desensitizing cream, evidence of the sparkling Swarovski crystal plug still in its rightful place; lengths of soft rope dangling from the legs of an ottoman where a certain special someone had been bound and splayed for appreciation, supplication, and use. Accompanying the ropes trailing outward from the ottoman, like the treasured possessions of a spindly octopus, lay paddles and crops, clothespins and clamps, things that silence, things that vibrate, and others that penetrate. Leading from the ottoman to the bed lay evidence of transition; a trail of shoes, wrist and ankle cuffs, and a blindfold, all thoughtfully and hastily removed in the afterglow and descent of post-orgasmic revival. And then there are sheets, blankets, and pillows scattered hither and yon, implements and obstacles to the passionate lovemaking that followed.

While each of these items holds a memory and perhaps even a secret, what shocks me most is how cold and impersonal they now seem and how poorly they capture the essence of who we are and our time together. Sure the state of the room and everything in it harkens a message of energetic and kinky sex, but looking around objectively for the first time since we began, it is evident that something is missing. A crucial part of the real story of us is left untold by the trail of evidence.

The missing part is the human element. The clothes and ropes, the cuffs and collar, and the toys and implements alone tell a story that I do not really connect with. They fail to tell of love, devotion, desire, and dedication. They in no way capture the depth of our bond. They are just totems serving as reminders of acts. But the acts themselves are merely symbols and symptoms of something far greater. They are manifestations of something deeper and more important. What’s missing is Us.

My Muse and I make up the bond of our bondage. Our hearts and minds are poured into this thing we call D/s, this bond that forges us together as one in a way never before experienced. Without two hearts and minds melded together in common desire and purpose, there is no Dominance, there is no submission. There are only two bodies engaged in kinky sex play and that alone is what the room speaks of at this moment. Without both of us there, together, the room and all of its evidence are but a stage with no set, a set with no actors.

So why do I share this seemingly minor detail of a sordid and sultry afternoon? It is, of course, a metaphor. The hollowness I perceive from the remnants of our foray into Dominance and submission is the same as the feeling I so often get when looking at the all too frequent interpretation of D/s and BDSM here online; empty, hollow, lacking in emotion and understanding. There are many kinks and all too little devotion. There is the inanimate emphasis on pornography and a paucity of interest in what can make kinky sex so very powerful; a deep bond of desire and devotion between Dominant and submissive, Master and slave.

There is certainly nothing wrong with kinky or rough sex, or pornographic depictions of such. I like it as much as the next guy. But just as pornography is a poor substitute for a living breathing partner, kinky or rough sex alone pales in comparison to a dedicated and desirous bond between Dominant and submissive manifested in sexual expression. The latter is a truly soaring experience that I wish for anyone with an interest in D/s. It's not just about the sex and the kink, it is first and foremost about the hearts and minds of two polar opposites attracted and bonded together in pursuit of a mutual goal. A Dominant and submissive are those attractive opposites that when properly paired and mated in a loving and dedicated bond can produce pure emotional and sexual magic for one another. The sex and kink are but a small manifestation of that bond, but boy is it ever good; unlike anything, you have ever experienced. I promise.

As always, if hearts and minds are willful and desirous then bodies will follow, and life will be breathed into that trail of inanimate remnants in a way unimaginable until you experience it for yourself.

Caption © For The Love of a Submissive, 2018
3 Comments
~Art Break
Posted:Dec 15, 2020 4:16 am
Last Updated:Jan 19, 2022 2:53 am
8760 Views
Sweet Bondage ~ Artist Unknown
9 Comments
Twenty Years Of Kink
Posted:Dec 14, 2020 4:42 am
Last Updated:Oct 18, 2023 6:29 am
11587 Views
I don’t remember the day or even the month, but I remember the feeling vividly. I was wandering aimlessly, searching everything and nothing, then of a sudden there it was. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The things they were saying were things I’d thought, things I wanted, things I was too embarrassed to admit to anyone. And here they were - men and women - talking about those feelings I had, one darker than the next, and giving it - of it - a name.

D/s.

Dominance and submission.

I started reading and couldn’t stop. I flitted from room to room, watching the conversations roll by, the experiences people shared with me, and other anonymous faces behind a screen. They were open and honest and raw. I don’t know how much time passed before I took an effective breath, but with it came the realization I was not alone. I was not a freak. What I wanted - no, what I needed - was something other people wanted and needed, as well.

It was 20 years ago. Now I look back and cringe quite often, but I wouldn’t trade those years for anything. I have a lot of ‘If I knew then what I know now…’ moments, but I wouldn’t go back and do it again, because you have to go through it to learn it. You just do. Because your track is different than the next person’s, and to learn what you need to learn takes living it yourself.

So what do twenty years teach you? Here are some things I’ve learned:

*Not everyone likes the spotlight; it’s ok to live D/s very privately
*It’s ok to make things like rope bondage and tickling hard limits; it’s ok to make anything a hard limit
*Dominants can use a safe word or otherwise stop an activity
*You can be the one to walk away; you don’t have to be ‘released’ from shit
*Liars and cheaters will always lie and cheat
*Moving quickly rarely leads to longevity
*Your gut is never wrong; listen to it
*It’s ok to not look like a fetish model; most people don’t
*Sex can feel good even without having an orgasm
*Squirting orgasms are a bit of a parlor trick, and they don’t always feel as good as other types of orgasms
*You deserve as much pleasure as he does
*If the effort isn’t there, in the beginning, it never will be
*You can kneel in slip-on Converse just as well as you can in heels
*You can be a kick-ass submissive and not own a single piece of lingerie
*You can defer to someone and respect them as a leader even while watching *Netflix and eating steak nachos with your fingers
*Dominants can get sick and be huge babies and still be worthy of obedience and respect
*Not every Dominant is an executive with an expense account
*Submissive’s can make more than their partner’s
*You don’t have to say ‘’ to feel it in your bones
*You can love someone and not be a match
*Toxicity isn’t gender-specific
*Wanting to be wanted can lead to seriously poor decision-making
*It’s ok to demand more for yourself; having standards solidifies self-worth
*Strength is a process
*Submission doesn’t cease to exist when you’re single
*Submission doesn’t end when you hit 30 or 50 or 70
*You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do
*You can change your mind
*You can use your voice
*You have to use your voice

Every time I start to think about how things have changed over the years I have to stop and remind myself: Nothing has changed but you. Sometimes I think about the 27-year-old, the 34-year-old, hell - even the 40-year-old, and I cringe. The mistakes she made. The positions (literally and figuratively) she put herself in. How much mental, and emotional energy she expended on a Dominant. How much she didn’t know.

How much more she still has to learn.

But I’ll tell you what: If the next twenty bring as much joy as the last twenty, I’m in for one hell of a ride. And I want all of it - every bump and swoop and whirl. The twists and turns are what make you who you are.

*Unknown

*Archive
8 Comments
Interlude - A little hot fiction for a cold winter's day
Posted:Dec 14, 2020 4:17 am
Last Updated:Dec 14, 2020 7:32 am
8584 Views
“Kneel on the chair, hands against the wall,” I whisper hoarsely in your ear as you stand half-naked, back to me, staring dutifully straight ahead. My fingers play through your hair and across your shoulders as you momentarily contemplate your next move.

You step away from me to comply and in so doing feel the warmth of my breath on your neck replaced by the cool air of the room and shudder. From the cold? Anticipation? Perhaps a twinge of separation anxiety at our physical parting? Fear? No, you know there is nothing to be feared here, the trust that has been earned between us is our strongest bond and thus far proven to be unshakable. No, this is unadulterated anticipation. You have no idea what is going to come next, you never really do. But you have every confidence that whatever it might be, no matter how long or difficult the journey, there is always profit and reward from it in the end.

As you kneel on the deeply cushioned chair, knees apart, as I would desire, you reach for the wall, back arched, ass out; presenting yourself to me in precisely the manner you have been taught. It is these small gestures, these little moments of exacting submission that cause my heart to swell the most with pride and desire. You have taken your submission seriously and carry it forth with great devotion and a sense of accomplishment. When we are in this place together, your desire to please and be pleasing knows few bounds. While I have worked very hard to earn this submissive desire from you, not a day goes by that I do not feel a profound sense of gratitude to have been chosen to lead you every bit as much as I have chosen you to serve. We are a beautifully matched set as Dominant and submissive.

“Tonight, there will be no bonds, my Muse, beyond the emotions that bind us together; no silk ties, no cuffs, no rope,” I whisper, leaning over you and drawing in your scent through flared nostrils. “Tonight, I want nothing but your will; that beautiful, stunning, powerful will that you exercise each and every time you come to me. You will hold perfectly still my Muse, no matter what. Perfectly still. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir,” you respond in barely a whisper, shallow breath quickening.

Straightening your hair back over your shoulders, I reach for your hands now pressed firmly against the wall, and ever so slowly trail my fingertips lightly across the backs of them and down your arms. A cascade of imperceptible little shivers rolls down your arms raising the nearly invisible hairs in their wake. I am bringing you to life, waking your body, raising its tempo to match that of your already racing mind. You shiver slightly and sigh in contented anticipation. Continuing their journey, my fingertips trail beneath your arms and along the sides of your beautifully curving breasts still contained in their revealing top. You squirm slightly as they trail down your sides leaving a delicious torment of pleasure and ticklishness in their wake.

“Be still my Muse.”

“Yes Sir,” you respond, head leaning against an upraised arm, eyes closed, lower lip clenched between your teeth.

“You are such a lip biter my Muse. I love that about you,” I whisper in your ear, trailing my hooked fingers back and forth along the top of your silky panties, lowering them ever so lightly with each pass. “Christian Grey is a literary idiot. Bite your lip as much as you like my Muse.” From long experience, I have learned that when you bite your lip, sure as the tides, you will shortly be wet and aching with anticipation.

Lower and lower I ease your panties, gliding the knuckles of my hooked fingers back and forth across the swell of your shapely ass as I do, subtly signaling where I intend to focus my attention this night. You moan as my hands draw back and forth, closer and closer to your sex, your heat radiating against my fingers as they pass. Instinctively you arch further, pressing toward me, exposing yourself to my attention. Another green light. Another welcome sign. A quiet begging for more.

With panties only partially removed I pull my hands away from you and step back to admire the sight before me. You are partially exposed to both my sight and my touch, yet fully available for my every whim. But I choose to leave the panties there, half on, and half off. The press of the satiny material against your hips is a powerful reminder to you of your exposure, sensuality, and vulnerability. I am well aware that by leaving them there, you feel more naked than if I had removed them entirely. They are a marker, a sign of the power I have over you through the submission you grant me.

Bending over, I glide my smooth hands up and down your soft creamy thighs. Up and down from the knee to the wisp of the satin draped beneath your sex. Without thought you arch and press, leaning into me.

SMACK!

“Be still my Muse,” I chide, the single stinging slap to your inner thigh racing like a lightning bolt to your already throbbing clit. “Your instructions are not to move.”

“Yes Sir, I am sorry Sir,” you respond gasping at the shock of the unexpected slap.

Slowly I drag my fingernails across the quivering skin of your legs from the crease of your knee higher and higher across the rounded mounds of your ass and back down the sides of your legs. Repeat. Over and over again. Expanding my reach. Covering your legs, inner thighs, ass, and hips with red trail marks from my fingernails. Subtly marking you. Taking my ownership.

Reaching for the back of your neck I plant my nails in your skin and slowly drag them down your back, through the valley of your arch, and across the mountains of your ass. Eight red parallel trails blazed by my fingers. Marking my territory. They will be there for hours on your tender skin…an oddly colorful and pleasant reminder of your ownership and use.

Reaching behind the white satin, I cup your hot sex gently in my curved hand, middle fingertip resting on your swollen hard clit. You start at the unexpected direct contact to your moist lips and struggle to be still as I rest my hand motionlessly there, cupping and cradling you. But after so much anticipation, the motionless touch is more torture than pleasure. Through halting breath, clenched eyes, and bitten lip, you roll your head back and forth instinctively rocking your hips seeking some form of stimulation. But there is no relief. My hand simply rests there moving with you, no relative motion between us.

Your breathing becomes more insistent, more desperate. “Please…” you murmur through clenched teeth.

“Be still my Muse,” I urge softly.

For a moment you try. You become perfectly still. But it cannot last, you are holding your breath to do so. With a gasp of exhaled effort, you renew your rocking and pressing but to no avail. My hand cupped against you simply goes along for the ride providing no satisfaction for your urgent desire.

“Please…Sir….please…” but you receive no verbal reply.

Instead, you feel a stinging slap to your ass delivered by my free hand. The sudden and unexpected sensation ignites a fire across your ass and straight to your throbbing cradled clit. You buck and press anew.

“I said be still!” I command. You freeze for a moment, perhaps in hopes that by doing so you might be rewarded. Or perhaps it is just your desire to please. The reason is of no importance to me though because I know full well it cannot last.

Still cupping your overheated sex in one hand I begin a steady slow rhythm of stinging slaps to your exposed ass with the other. Not so hard as to make you cry out but firm enough to make an impression. Back and forth, left and right, the blows land on your reddening and quivering cheeks. While my other hand stays perfectly motionless over your now soaked lips and throbbing clit, the reaction to each stinging slap is all manner of motion carrying through from your ass to your thighs to your desperately craving sex, in its own way providing the stimulus you have so craved.

One after another the rhythmic spanking continues and as it does you rock your hips back and forth, forward and back in an ever-increasing tempo of excitement, arousal, and desperation. You are rolling and undulating beneath me, all sound and motion, ass and head swaying this way and that. And all the while my hand rests against you, cradling you, as you drench my fingers in your dew. Your breath comes in shallower gasps and a sheen of perspiration breaks out across your skin.

“Oh, God! Sir, please don’t stop…” you moan through halting breath.

But I do. As suddenly as it began, the spanking stops. You remain there, swaying and bucking, panting with desire and need, desperate for relief and release. Then you suddenly catch yourself, straighten, and do your best to remain still knowing that this is the only viable path through this obstacle course.

My now soaked hand still rests against your sex, lovingly and tenderly holding you. Yet that is not at all what you want. You crave motion. Sensation. More. Much more. Endlessly more at this moment. Anything but stillness.

Resolutely and with a deep breath you straighten your head, staring ahead at the wall, stiffen your back and replant your knees. A reset. Trying anew. For it is only by following directions that you receive a reward. You know this. I know this. It is both the game we play and the lessons we learn.

My hand cradles you. It is our only contact. As your breathing begins to settle into a more regular pattern you begin to drift. Mesmerized. Meditative almost. A calm drifts over you and the desperation begins to leave, replaced by a glow like the warm sun on a cool spring day. You bathe in the sensations that wash over and through you. The heat in your ass, the stinging fingernail trails down your back and up your inner thighs. You become hypersensitive and aware of every part of your body. Your mind is empty of thought and there is nothing but sensation. Wetness. Heat. Stinging. Throbbing. You remain still and statuesque in the mutual silence and stillness. Hand to sex, our sole connection. Still. Connected. Together, yet apart. You close your eyes and bathe in the sensation.

Almost imperceptibly, my soaked fingertips begin to move…

Caption © For The Love of a Submissive, 2019
2 Comments
Sex & Submission
Posted:Dec 13, 2020 4:48 am
Last Updated:Dec 23, 2023 2:05 am
8366 Views
Sex? Sex is easy. Easy to find. Easy to do without. Honestly most days my battery-operated boyfriend is better and less hassle than actual sex.

But most days I just ACHE to be submissive. The need to be filled, used, and defiled is so strong it claws at me every waking moment.

I sit at work, in meetings, at the bar with friends. I’m present and participating but I’m also keenly aware of the ache that throbs insistently between my legs. If I close my eyes, even for a second, I can imagine a tall form behind me, a deep voice in my ear. Hands that take what they want. Fingers that plunge deep inside me, a hard cock that chokes me, an edge of pain to my pleasure, and a mouth that demands everything.

But I also yearn for the quiet moments. Kneeling at his feet. Following his lead. Trusting his decisions. I burn to hear a murmured “good girl” and a growled, “you’re mine.” I want to serve, to ease his mind, to show him how he is the yin to my yang.

The busier my external world, the more I have to lead in my vanilla life, the greater this need gets. Clawing at me until I think I will go mad. Nature demands balance. My body demands dominance. My soul demands peace. Only submitting to him can give me that.

exoticeva~
6 Comments
Why Love Makes A Night Of Kink Even Better
Posted:Dec 13, 2020 4:23 am
Last Updated:Jul 31, 2023 2:33 am
8268 Views
Kink can be practiced while being involved in different ‘relationships’. These may include playing together with a friend (or even acquittance), as a service (paying a Mistress for her services, for example), with a stranger (at a party or club), or with your loving partner. At Bedroom Bondage, we are all about exploring kink as a couple, so that is what I’ll be writing about.

Trust & safety
There’s a good reason that I start out with this one. Nothing is more important than being able to put your full trust in your partner, and it is such a beautiful thing when you can. You know each other well, and should not have to worry about your playtime turning into a bad experience because, for example, your partner does not respect your boundaries. A lot of people seem to think that it is all about being beaten up and tortured, but the ones that know better are very aware that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. Domination and submission is always a matter of consent.
Being able to completely give yourself to your lover is an incredibly sexy, freeing feeling! When your man has all the control over your body, you will be very aware of every little bit of it, enhancing all sensations.

Feeling comfortable
Believe me, the more comfortable you feel with your partner, the sexier you’ll feel, and the hotter it’ll get! You’ll be way more relaxed about revealing your deepest, darkest desires… Who knows what kind of dirty wishes the two of you share without even realizing it?

Aftercare
Something that should never be missing. When the submissive is totally exhausted, loving care from her Master is the cherry on an already delicious cake. It simply makes the whole experience even better, when he drapes a soft blanket over you, brings you something to drink (I always seem to be up for a big glass of juice or water myself after such intense hours), gives you a nice massage… I honestly couldn’t say what would be better than to be softly kissed, ‘I love you’ being whispered in my ear, and sweetly fall asleep after this kinky, sexy intimate moment together.

When you take good care of your submissive, she’ll take good care of you, too. That’s exactly what it’s all about. Not just for the submissive to take care of her Master, but to take care of each other.

~dominantlife
3 Comments
~Merciless
Posted:Dec 12, 2020 4:48 am
Last Updated:Mar 29, 2023 3:35 am
8426 Views
~

7 Comments
The Paradox of Dominance & Submission
Posted:Dec 11, 2020 5:35 am
Last Updated:May 6, 2023 3:27 am
9428 Views
Simply being a partner in a D/s relationship confers no inherent advantage, no guarantee of happiness nor fulfillment. Like any relationship, it thrives only when each partner accepts their responsibility as one half of an intricate dance, making a conscious daily effort to celebrate their partner.

The paradox that every woman exploring submission must eventually learn to understand and accept is that in accepting his collar, and clicking her leash into place, she is not becoming a slave: she is being set free. It is not a man, but her freedom from inhibition, and the freedom to become who she has always wanted to be that she is giving herself to.

The challenge that every man aspiring to dominance must accept is in understanding that her submission doesn’t make him a master, it makes him a servant. Great dominants accept with glee the challenge of taking a powerful being into their capable hands and, like grapes from the best vines, knowing how to squeeze her in all the ways that extract the very finest of her fruit. Then with patience and dedication, allowing it to ferment into something seductive and beautiful.

Starry Night~

*Archive
7 Comments
There’s something about exposure.
Posted:Dec 11, 2020 5:11 am
Last Updated:Apr 23, 2023 4:21 am
8345 Views
He’s seen me a thousand times, but he tells me to show him what’s his, and I can’t help but blush as my fingers part my lips. It transcends intimate…it’s humiliating and invigorating.

Time slows as his eyes devour me. My clit develops it’s own throbbing heartbeat as I hold myself open to him. It’s empowering, and incredibly flattering, to be the object of his desire.

The coolness of the air blows across the moist pink skin, and with each second my blush grows deeper. Those thoughts that were flooding my mind only moments before, give way to the heat of his eyes on me.

I am open, and I feel vulnerable. He knows I’m the same woman whose tears come so easily, and who sometimes tugs on the leash a bit too hard. He sees the real me, and yet, I can see the lust in his eyes, and feel the intensity of his desire. I am accepted and loved, and I settle under his gaze.

There’s something about exposure.

pleasurewhore~
4 Comments

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